A Haven Through Darkness and War
by Kylip
Summary: Haven Hill is a sanctuary for the damned, the shunned, and the forgotten.Watched over by two immortals from long ago, will this coming war between wizards destroy that which these two brothers have sacrificed so much for? Or will it give back what it took


_Haven Hill_

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Haven Hill, everything in it, and the characters such as Patriarch and others that will come into the story are my own invention. JKR owns Harry Potter. So no one complain.

Enjoy!

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_Wheat…harvested_

_Barley…harvested_

_Hops…harvested_

_Vines…harvested_

_Grapes…harvested_

_Apples…harvested_

_Peaches…harvested_

_Cherries…harvested_

_Pears…harvested_

_Oranges…harvested_

_Tangerines…harvested_

_Honey…harvested_

_Blood Berries…harvested_

_Wool…gathered_

_Dairies…gathered_

_Skins…gathered_

_Furs… gathered_

_Silks…gathered and reserves in production_

_Beeswax…gathered_

_Iron bars…gathered_

_Stone blocks…gathered_

_Wines…gathered_

_Meat…gathered_

_Spare Timber…gathered_

_Mithril…in reserve_

_Herds…returned to winter pastures_

_Bee Hives…returned to winter fields_

_Horses…sheltered in winter stables_

_Spider Colony…active_

_Mithril Mines…open_

_Silver Mines…closed_

_Iron Mines…closed_

_Stone Quarries…closed_

_Gem Quarries…open_

_Coral Colonies…open_

_Grain mill…operational_

_Brewery…operational_

_Blacksmiths…operational_

_Wine press…operational_

Patriarch leaned back in the high winged back chair, heaving a sigh as he looked over the inventories of Haven Hill. Pages upon pages of cream colored parchment littered the top of the ornate bloodoak desk, along with other miscellaneous things. Thick, heavy tomes, their covers cracked and stained with age were stacked in seemingly unstable columns on and around the desk. Inkpots of various colors of inks glowed brightly in the light cast from the large hearth. Glowstones littered the room, giving more illumination than the fire alone could have.

The study was a large room in tasteful reds and golds, giving the room the illusion it was smaller than it really was. Books and ancient manuscripts lined the wall, most of them on dark magick long forgotten by most of the world. Others contained records of old bloodlines and their gifts. A fire hearth stood seven feet tall and four feet deep in the wall behind Patriarch. Warm red wood peeked through the dense matting of thick rugs cast upon it. The only other furniture in the room besides the desk and chair was large black couch with a few soft, blood red pillows piled at either end with a patchwork quilt still thrown messily on the couch's back and a single glass orb the size of a basket ball filled with dark amber mist resting on an iron stand in the middle of the room. The only decoration was a sketching of two pair of wings hung above the hearth.

Setting the latest report down with the rest on his desk, Patriarch stood, stretching his six foot eight frame. Walking over to the hearth's mantle, he rested his arms against it, gazing at the sketch for a moment before he turned his sight to the flames leaping and dancing before him.

Patriarch Baron Armand Frost was a strange creature in the present world. Standing nearer to seven feet than to six in height, he passed the average stature of a human male. But then again, he was neither average nor human. Stark white, waist length hair had been drawn into a rough braid…strands now escaping, after a day of hard physical labor and crouching over a desk for the last three hours, to frame an exotic face. Dark plum colored lips were at rest, laughter lines framing the corners. A slightly crooked nose and high, arched cheekbones gave way to royal purple eyes with flecks of gold in them. His physique was lithe and muscled, a liquid grace the flowed and shifted beneath slightly tanned skin. Dressed in simple dark green slacks, a black sweater than clung to his body and black socks that had holes worn through at the big toe, Patriarch was the picture of casual relaxation.

He felt anything but relaxed.

Suddenly he slammed his fist against the mantle, not even hearing the dull crack when his fist met marble. Swimming through a myriad of thoughts, each path leading to a different outcome, Patriarch felt his exhaustion suddenly manifest itself in an intense migraine.

_Nearly twenty years we fought last time, _he thought to himself, _and now, we may have to fight another twenty again. The two young mortals are not yet ready to fulfill their roles. Hmm, I wonder, will that meddling old man try to ensnare us as allies again? Who knows…I do know, though, I'll need you more then ever this time, Eric. Both Dumbledore and Voldemort will be coming for us and I don't think they'll give up as easily this time around._

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Notes: Glowstones are basically stones or jewels that when mined, created, or harvested, retain a small portion of the essence of the element they were formed in. The ones in Patriarch's study were created using a method similar to glass blowing…since they were formed from heat and fire they emit gold or orange hues when activated. The big orb in the middle of the room will be explained later. Some of the inks on his desk were made from the blood of specific creatures. A bloodoak is a carnivorous tree that can reach heights of over one hundred feet. The tomes are spell and potion books from a forgotten time. Hops are plants from which ale and beer were made from. Again, everything in this story except Harry Potter and Company is my invention. More notes later.

Now…REVIEW! Please? ;)


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